One Week
by jichulets
Summary: 7 days of love, humor and adventures for our favorite couple! [Maleval Week 2014 entries]
1. Day 1

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 1 Prompt: Cuddling**

**Title: Pillow Talk**

"Mistress?" With eyes closed, Diaval whispered the title. From his side, pressed up against him, Maleficent shifted to look up at him.

"Yes, Diaval?"

His hand moved to envelop the one lying atop his chest. "Your hand keeps fidgeting."

Only then does Maleficent realize she's been tracing patterns on his chest unconsciously. "Oh, sorry."

After a few minutes, he called out again, "Mistress?"

Immediately Maleficent's hand stilled. "I'm sorry. I wasn't doing it on purpose."

Tiredly, Diaval remarked, "I know.

She'd just barely closed her eyes when Diaval spoke up again, firmer this time. "Mistress, please stop fretting. Go to sleep."

"How did you know I was fretting?"

"Your hands are being restless tonight."

When Maleficent didn't respond, he added, "Normally I wouldn't say anything, but I am _exhausted_, mistress. Forgive me for my impudence, but either talk about what's bothering you or forget it and sleep."

Sighing, Maleficent replied, "Sorry. I'll stop now."

Maleficent remained stiff by his side, and she withdrew the arm that was draped over his torso.

"Mistress…?"

"Go to sleep, Diaval." Maleficent commanded, rising.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Letting you sleep. My unconscious habit obviously upsets you."

Groaning, he clarified, "It doesn't upset me, mistress. You misunderstood me."

Still, Maleficent proceeded to step out of her nest- _their _nest now, Diaval supposed.

Sitting up, Diaval pleaded. "Mistress, come back. You know I only sleep in this form because of you."

"No need to look so smug, mistress." Diaval's eyes narrowed at the sight of Maleficent's smirk. "Tell me what's bothering you."

"It's the ball." Maleficent huffed.

"The fete Aurora is holding tomorrow?"

"Yes. Do you realize it will be our first visit to the human kingdom since the battle?"

"I do. But I'm not unduly worried about it."

Rolling her eyes, Maleficent remarked, "Of course you aren't. You didn't have to fight with humans for years out of fear and being threatened."

"That might be so", Diaval reasoned, "but I am fully aware of the ruthlessness humans can possess. You saved me from a human, remember?"

"I do."

Taking her jittery hands, Diaval said soothingly, "Don't worry about it, mistress. I am certain Aurora won't let harm befall you." Locking gazes with her, he promised, "I, too, swear on my life to protect you to the best of my abilities if the humans go against us. But again, I don't think we have anything to be wary of."

"Sometimes you're too optimistic, silly bird."

"Just providing the balance, mistress."

For a while, they sit in silence. Diaval had almost dozed off when Maleficent said his name in a hushed tone.

"Diaval?"

"Yes, mistress?"

"I really am grateful for the years of faithfulness you've shown."

Raising an eyebrow, Diaval teased, "Is sleep deprivation getting to your head, mistress?"

Maleficent retorted testily, "Can I not say anything nice without being questioned, Diaval?"

"Sorry, mistress."

Diaval stood up, smiling down on her. "There is really no thanks necessary, mistress. You've always been welcome."

Diaval went back to the nest. He lay on his side, watching Maleficent through heavy eyes.

"Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Will you come back and lie down again? I really want to sleep now."

Conceding, she obliged. "You and your neediness, Diaval."

Quickly embracing her when she was finally at his side again, he cheekily remarked, "_Please_, mistress, we both know you enjoy being in my arms as much as I do."

If Maleficent could look up at him, she would probably be glaring. "If you continue in this manner I shall turn you into a dog, Diaval", she chastised. "You'd make a better pillow then. Nice, warm, and most importantly, silent."

Diaval mumbled, "Mistress of all evil indeed, aren't you?"

"What did you say, Diaval?"

"Nothing."

As he was about to fall asleep, he whispered, "Good night, mistress."

Deep breaths and a calm heartbeat was the only response he got.

* * *

**A/N**: Hi guys! It's Maleval week 2014 over at Tumblr! So I thought I'd put all my entries here. :)

The day 2 prompt is Tragedy (+ Fatal Injury) and as some of you know, I've already written a story in that fashion- _Despair_, which is chapter 15 of my one-shot collection, _Hurricane_. If you haven't read it, please do. It will be my entry for tomorrow, so I'd be updating on Day 3.

Cheers!


	2. Day 3

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 3 Prompt: Aurora the Matchmaker + Laughter**

**Title: Futile Endeavors**

**Notes: High School Teachers AU!**

To the entire student body, it is no secret that Aurora Halloway has a scheming, cunning side. Yes, she's cheerful and bubbly, but she's also the sort of person who gets what she wants- not just because people give it to her, but because she goes out of her way to get it herself. By this time, her peers knew well enough not to interfere when she has a plan to execute.

And right now, she is on a very important mission, possibly the hardest thing she's ever undertaken so far. But difficulty is of no matter. It's a mission of utmost importance, and she knows it will be well worth it in the end.

The plan, in its most general terms, is as follows:

**Target A**: Mallory Moor, English lit teacher, school paper and yearbook adviser

**Target B**: Diaval Blanchard, Biology teacher and academic decathlon coach

**Objective**: to encourage (force, really) a romantic relationship between them

If one asked her peers what they thought of Aurora's new plan, they'd all say that she's gone off her rocker. Matchmaking has always been a messy affair, especially if it involves two of the school's authoritative figures. Besides, the student body could argue, Mallory Moor and Diaval Blanchard couldn't be more incompatible if they tried.

Diaval Blanchard, affectionately known as Mr. D to his students, is quite possibly the school's most popular teacher, because of the consensus that he actually comes across as _cool_. While it's true that he can be a biology geek, he's also in a rock band (which students have found out accidentally) and students like his sense of humor. Nice, affable and genuinely caring of his students, it's no wonder he's a hit with the majority of the student body.

Mallory Moor, on the other hand, is what would be titled as _infamous_. She's beautiful, which no doubt turns the head of hormonal teenage boys (and even girls) that run rampant in high school, but she's also strict, no-nonsense, and intimidating. She holds her classes to the highest, most exacting standards possible, and students often complain about the workload she gives them. Even the most conscientious students fear her- there was a rumor that one student from years ago missed her chance to get into Harvard on scholarship because Miss Moor's English lit class pulled her GPA down.

In conclusion, to put these two teachers together would be a futile endeavor.

Still, Aurora wasn't the sort to be easily deterred by public opinion. After all, they weren't as observant as she was nor where they privy to the couple's idiosyncrasies as she is, being editor-in-chief of the school paper and vice-captain of the academic decathlon team.

To put it simply, she has evidence her peers didn't have.

* * *

**Evidence 1**: The Detention

"Early, aren't we?" Aurora looked up from the book she was reading to meet the eyes of her academic decathlon coach.

"Hello Mr. D! Decided to take advantage of the quiet to read." She said, holding up the book to show Diaval the title.

"Oh, that's a good one. Kent and Carr's narrative is easy to read and sometimes highly amusing. Have you gotten to chapter 12 yet? The one with the epic hyena joke?" Diaval excitedly responded, putting down his bag in the table in front of the classroom.

"Spoiler much? I'm still in chapter 10!" Aurora pouted.

"Sorry about that." Diaval smiled sheepishly at her, then took out a sheaf of papers from his bag and perused them. For a while, Aurora read and Diaval graded exams in silence, but curiosity got the better of the blonde and she decided to ask, "Mr. D?"

Peering at her from his table, he acknowledged her. "Yes?"

"Is it true you gave Anthony Silvers detention for 8 consecutive Fridays?"

"Oh, that news has spread, hasn't it?"

"Phillip told me Silvers has been bitching about it since yesterday."

Diaval smiled wryly. "Well, there has to be consequences for actions, you know."

"But 8 consecutive Fridays? That's like a social life killer!"

"Then perhaps he should have thought first before opening his mouth."

"What exactly did he say? Phillip wouldn't tell me, as he didn't want to repeat Silvers' words."

Chuckling, Diaval said, "One day, your curiosity will kill you." He put his pen down. "He'd said some nasty things regarding a member of the faculty."

"Miss Moor?"

"How did you know?"

"A few days ago he got reamed by Miss Moor in class. If I'm right, Silvers said some demeaning, degrading, sexist insults. It's the way he is. Disgusting pig, really." Aurora punctuated her statement with an expression of aversion.

Diaval sighed. "Shame he's one of the most popular kids in school, isn't it? Guy's a jerk and a bully, although I'm not supposed to say such things about my students."

Aurora laughed. "It's alright. Still, your punishment is a bit harsh."

Skeptically, he retorted. "Not really."

Aurora put a bookmark on the tome that has previously occupied her attention. "Considering I've never heard you put anyone in detention at all, I'd say this must be a big deal."

Diaval's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you implying, Aurora?"

Stifling a smile, she replied. "Nothing! It was just... very chivalrous of you."

Diaval snorted. "No one has the right to degrade a woman in any way, shape or form. All men should uphold that standard. You'd do well to remember that, Aurora."

She nodded. "True, but you've always been the sort to talk things out first before punishing your students. At least, that's what's been going around about you."

Diaval didn't answer immediately, deep in thought. Then, he admitted, "I suppose I've acted rashly, although sometimes I think Silvers is beyond redemption."

"Perhaps it was the fact that he was insulting Miss Moor that got you all riled up?" Aurora teased, barely suppressing a mischievous grin.

Diaval was about to respond to her cheeky statement when chants of "Good afternoon Mr. D!" from the other members of the decathlon team interrupted their conversation.

* * *

**Evidence 2**: The Scarf

It has only been a week since classes resumed and Aurora already feels swamped with extracurricular activities. It's late in the afternoon and she's still at school, finalizing this month's issue of the school paper. The paper's adviser checked in on her just as she was packing up.

"Good afternoon, Miss Moor." Aurora greeted the older woman genially.

With the slightest of smiles, Mallory responded. "Good afternoon. Have you got the final layouts for this month?"

Aurora nodded, handing Mallory the drafts. While Mallory was studying the pages, Aurora noticed a classy silk scarf adorning the teacher's neck. After four years of being under her tutelage, Aurora has never seen Mallory wear something so fancy. Her fashion style coincided with her personality- professional, formal, sharp-looking. Naturally, the scarf looks a little out of place, although beautiful.

"That's a lovely scarf, Miss Moor. Where did you get it?"

Mallory took her eyes away from the paper and touched the edges of her scarf. Her expression grew less severe. "Thank you. I'm afraid you'd have to ask Diaval- Mr. Blanchard, I mean. He's the one who bought it."

Amused and pleased, Aurora said, "Oh, really? That's very thoughtful of him. It looks expensive."

The softness in Mallory's face was gone as soon as it came. "Not unexpected, though. Didn't he treat the decathlon team to Santi's during the last day of classes last term? It's the sort of thing he does."

"I suppose. Still, don't you think-"

"Miss Halloway, I think these would suffice." Mallory interrupted her. "Make sure you bring this to printing first thing tomorrow."

Without further ado, Mallory exited the room, leaving Aurora to marvel at the fact that the very pricey-looking scarf matched Mallory's eyes.

* * *

**Evidence 3**: The School Trip

Aurora was one of the first students to board the bus for today's trip. Seniors will be taken to the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, as was the school's yearly tradition. Her boyfriend, Phillip Markham, had been complaining that she dragged him too early to the bus, ranting about how eager she is, but truth is, she didn't want to be early because she was excited. She wanted to board early so that she can choose seats. The seniors are to be chaperoned today by Miss Moor and Mr. Blanchard, being the youngest members of the faculty, and of course Aurora wanted to be close enough to where they'll be seated to gather more intel for her plan.

Knowing they'll be seating nearest to the door, she took the left-side seat in the second row. It took 30 minutes since they've arrived for the bus to fill, most of which Phillip spent sleeping on her shoulder. The long wait was worth it, Aurora thought to herself, because their seat afforded her a good view and discretion at the same time.

From time to time the teachers scanned the bus to check on their students, but mostly they talked in hushed tones, easily drowned out by typical student hullabaloo. Aurora noticed that her decathlon coach has been smiling the entire time, obviously pleased that the students' rowdiness afforded them a little privacy.

While half-listening to Phillip now chatting at her side, Aurora noticed Mallory opening a paper bag and taking out a scone. When she was halfway through the scone, Diaval plucked it out of her hands and took a bite. Aurora couldn't see Mallory's face in her position, but she assumed that her teacher glared at Diaval, as he responded by laughing. In retaliation, Mallory seized the coffee cup in Diaval's other hand and took a sip. When Diaval asked for it back, Mallory shook her head and continued drinking. _Sharing meals_, Aurora was smug to note, _is an intimate action_. Her sentiment was affirmed when she saw Diaval looking at the woman beside him with such tenderness it would have surprised any onlooker.

* * *

**Evidence 4**: The Laugh

Class was long over, but Aurora was still in school because the decathlon will soon be competing and the entire team is working extremely hard to secure another championship. Normally it wouldn't bother her, but this day has been exceptionally awful. She's tired and hungry, and it was only when she got to her car that she realized she's left her planner back in the classroom. Heaving a sigh, she went back inside.

As she neared the classroom, she heard voices echo in the empty hallways. She recognized Diaval's voice, but she was nearly at the door when she was able to make out the other voice as belonging to Mallory. Aurora wasn't able to distinguish what they were saying, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the laugh that resonated from the room- definitely feminine in nature. _Mallory was laughing_. Not once, in four years, has she seen her favorite teacher laugh. Through the years, Aurora has managed to be on the receiving end of Mallory's rare smiles, but never has she witnessed a chuckle, let alone a loud, carefree laughter such as the one she's hearing right now.

Aurora turned around and walked back to her car, deciding that this recent development was infinitely more important than a planner she could retrieve first thing next morning, anyway.

* * *

So yes, Aurora is on a mission. Based on these very carefully collated observations, she had every right to believe in her conjecture- that Miss Moor and Mr. Blanchard are perfect for each other- and thus, her mission had to succeed. At this rate, however, she only had a few months left, and she intended to see her plans come to fruition by graduation at the latest.

"Miss Halloway." Consumed by all her thoughts, Aurora failed to notice the woman approach her worktable. Startled, she only stared.

"Aurora, are you alright?" Mallory asked, concern evident in her features.

"Uhm ye- yeah. Just thinking, Miss Moor."

"Are you worried about college applications? I heard Stanford's results are being sent out."

Thankful for the topic, Aurora replied, "Yes. I called and Stanford said I should expect mine next week."

"Don't stress yourself unnecessarily, Aurora. I've no doubt you'll get in."

Aurora has always known she is one of the few students the strict instructor actually likes, but the woman has never been vocal about it before. "Really, Miss Moor?"

Smiling slightly, Mallory nodded. "Of course. You're a very bright girl, Aurora. Stanford would be very lucky to have you."

Touched by Mallory's sudden verbal display of confidence, Aurora stood up and hugged her favorite teacher. Pulling away quickly, Aurora said, "Thanks so much, Miss Moor."

Flustered but not displeased, Mallory gently said, "You should go home. This", she gestured to the papers scattered in Aurora's table, "can wait until tomorrow."

Aurora gathered her things and made for the door. As she was about to leave, she turned back and remarked, "Santi's has this steak promo tonight. You should go with Mr. D." Before Mallory could reply, she exited the room.

In her hurry, she didn't see Diaval walking towards her and so bumped into him.

"Oh hey, Mr. D. Sorry about that." Aurora greeted.

"Don't worry about it." Diaval smiled. "Heading home?"

"To Santi's. They have a promo tonight. You should take Miss Moor." Aurora grinned cheekily.

Chuckling, Diaval said, "Are you ever going to give this up, Aurora?"

"Not until you go out with Miss Moor. I'm telling you, you'd be perfect together."

"You're a handful. Go, Phillip must be waiting for you." Diaval dismissed his student with a wan smile.

"Bye, Mr. D."

Diaval stood in the hallway for a little longer, shaking his head. When Aurora was out of sight, he walked towards the room she came from.

Mallory looked up when she heard the door open. "Hello", she greeted.

"What is it with students and Santi's? Their steak isn't even that good. The diner on 12th is so much better." Diaval sauntered towards Mallory, one hand on the strap of his shoulder bag.

"Maybe it's because the diner on 12th is 30 minutes away, Diaval. Besides, Santi's is semi-formal. It's a teenager's ideal place- casual enough to hang out with friends, formal enough for a date."

"Such insight into the lives of teenagers, Mal. I'm impressed." Diaval smirk turned into a grin when Mallory glared at him.

"Aurora's still as hell-bent on getting us together, by the way." Diaval remarked, pulling Mallory closer to him by the waist.

"I know. She just told me I should ask you out to dinner tonight."

Brushing errant strands of Mallory's hair away from her face, he remarked, "Told me the same thing, too, on the premise that 'we'd be perfect together'."

"Poor girl. How long do you reckon it'll take for her to figure this out?" Mallory mused, lightly grasping his upper arms.

"My bet is on graduation- when we tell her we've been dating all this time."

Mallory chuckled airily. "Hopefully she'll be too thrilled to get mad at us for being duped."

Diaval disentangled himself from her, grabbed her bag and pulled her to the door. "Oh, no doubt about it."

Shutting the lights, they went out into the hallway, hand in hand.

* * *

**A/N: **Honestly I had fun with this. :)

In other news, Stanford is still a sore point for me because I was supposed to go there to present my researches at the annual psych conference, but my visa application got denied. US Embassy is a bitch. :(

I hope you guys liked this one!

Cheers!


	3. Day 4

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 4 Prompt: Cooking for the Other**

**Title: Lessons in Cooking and Life**

**Notes: Set in the universe of****_ The Flaw in the Plan_**** (It will make more sense if you've read that particular AU!)**

"Oh Mal- Mallory, hey. You're early." Diaval looked like a deer caught in headlights standing in the hallway of Mallory's apartment. He'd immediately run out of the kitchen when he heard the front door open and Mallory call out "Diaval?"

"I didn't fancy going through a laborious dinner service today. I may not be a festive sort of person, but it is my birthday, after all." Mallory replied to his greeting amusedly, shrugging off her coat and setting it down, together with her bag, on the sofa.

"Yeah. Happy birthday, Mal." Diaval said, distracted. She was walking to him and he met her halfway, kissing her on the cheek.

"That's the third time today that you've greeted me." Diaval did not need to look at her to know she was staring at him weirdly.

"Are you okay?" Mallory asked, noticing Diaval's distraught expression.

Accepting the fact that there's no way out, he decided on honesty. "I uhm well- no. Look, Mal-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Mallory crinkled her nose and asked, "What is that smell?"

With his words tumbling one over the other, he anxiously replied, "Mal, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I was only trying to-"

For the second time, Mallory didn't let him finish his explanations; instead, opting to find the source of the pungent smell now pervading their apartment. Upon seeing the kitchen, Mallory exclaimed, "_What the hell happened here, Diaval_?"

Diaval simply stood there, shamefaced. Mallory frowned, brows furrowing. "Did you try to cook?" She asked incredulously.

"Iwantedtocookforyou" Diaval mumbled hurriedly. He proceeded into the kitchen, resuming the cleaning he had frantically started when he realized this particular endeavor was futile.

"Since when do you cook?" Mallory leaned against the doorway, bemused.

Frustrated, Diaval ran a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to… It's your birthday, Mal. You're supposed to, I don't know, rest, maybe. Enjoy. Sit back."

Gently, Mallory pulled on Diaval's arm, stilling his movements.

"I wouldn't mind cooking today, you know. In fact," she added in jest, "I'd actually like to ensure that my birthday dinner is at least edible." Diaval threw her a half-hearted glare and resumed cleaning. Mallory heard mutters of "bloody incompetent", "can't even do a dumb surprise" from her upset boyfriend.

"It's not a big deal, Diaval." Mallory tried to placate the man.

"I can't even do this thing right, 'course it matters." Diaval resolutely refused to make eye contact with her, focusing on the task at hand.

"You really should have just bought me flowers." Mallory teased, trying to diffuse the tension, but she realized it was the wrong thing to say when he retorted, "but I always do that for you. S'not special anymore."

"And here I thought you were not the sort of person who does things based solely on the value of their uniqueness."

Finally dropping the rag in his hand, Diaval sighed. "I'm not. I'm just trying to step up my game, so to speak."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I just think I should to put more effort into this." Diaval said, grabbing her hand and interlocking his fingers with hers, conveying with his touch that by 'this' he meant '_us'_.

Stepping closer to Diaval, she voiced her query. "Why would you think that?"

Diaval's next words rendered her speechless, in a negative way. "I just thought I should at least work on deserving someone like you."

For a while Mallory simply stood there, eyes wide. She kept on opening her mouth as if to give him a piece of her mind, but would then deem the words wrong and so shutting her mouth again.

Finally, she pulled him out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Sit", Mallory patted the space beside her on the couch, "and explain yourself."

Diaval obeyed the first command, but not the second. Sighing, Mallory prompted him, "How could you even insinuate that you don't _deserve_ me?"

Scowling, Diaval looked up at her. "Let's face it Mallory- it's true. Look at you- head chef of a three-michelin starred restaurant, training under one of the best restaurateurs in the world today, with your own writing column and various other media promotions- you're _gold,_ that's what you are. Pretty sure a wedding planner who can't even hire an assistant isn't everyone's bet for you. Your colleagues think the same way."

"_What_?" Mallory sputtered.

"Heard your junior chefs gossiping one time." Diaval grunted, jaw tight and eyes stormy.

"_Since when do you care what everybody else says, Diaval_?" Mallory's voice became shriller in disbelief.

. "I don't. I wouldn't care, except this time they've got a point. I'm not stupid, Mal. I'm not gonna leave you just because some people don't approve. I'm here for as long as you'll have me. But that doesn't mean that I should get complacent, you know?" Diaval attempted insouciance, as if he's merely stating a matter of fact, but his body language gave him away.

Indignant and exasperated, Mallory massaged her temple with nimble fingers. "I cannot believe these things are coming from you of all people, Diaval."

"It's not an unreasonable thought, Mal."

"So you think, because of my recent career successes, that I've become out of reach?" What do you want me to do, quit?"

"What? No!" Diaval almost bellowed in disagreement. "I really don't think there is somebody prouder of your achievements that I am, Mal. This isn't- it's not a matter of me wanting to be on equal footing with you career-wise. I'm happy where you and I stand now. I just think that someone as amazing as you deserves so much more than what I can give, so I want to be better- as a person, as a partner, whatever. I just want to be better, _for you_."

At Diaval's last statement, Mallory's face softened. Gently, she said, "I wonder if you've forgotten I wouldn't even be where I am now if I hadn't met _you_."

"Don't be-"

"Let me finish, Diaval. I've given it a lot of thought, and I honestly don't know whether I would have been able to put my life back on track on my own volition. Don't listen to what other people say behind our backs. What do they know anyway? I'm telling you as it is right now- I like you. I like being with you, and somehow you've already wormed your way into becoming important to me. Don't let anybody tell you different, okay?" Mallory squeezed his hand, emphasizing her point.

"As for the whole 'deserving' spiel, well, I'm speaking from experience here. I'm not saying you shouldn't grow as a person, because you should. All humans should eventually seek the betterment of themselves. However, don't do it because you think it will make you more deserving of someone. It was my mistake with Stefan. I changed myself to become better suited for him. I let him become the center of my world. In reality all a relationship means is that you choose to let somebody else be there to witness and gently guide your growth as a person. You don't grow _for_, you grow _with_."

Seeing that her words finally dispelled Diaval's bad mood, she added, "It's not even as if you're doing something wrong. So you can't cook, big deal! Leila's never cooked for me and we've been friends since high school. I did mean it when I said you should have just bought me flowers. You do the romance thing right as long as you stick to what you know."

Smiling sheepishly, Diaval leaned back on the sofa. "I suppose you're right. I can be overreaching at times."

"You also have a tendency to blow things out of proportion."

In faux haughtiness, Diaval retorted, "For your information, Miss Moor, we've both had episodes like this before."

Laughing, Mallory nodded. "Very true."

After a few moments of silence, Diaval sighed. "So… I've made a mess of your kitchen and almost ruined your day with my insecurities. Forgive me?"

"As long as you make sure that kitchen returns to its pristine condition, then of course."

Diaval grinned. "Okay, love." He moved forward to give her a quick kiss, but she pulled him closer when he was about to disentangle himself. A few minutes later, Diaval stood up, looking thoroughly snogged. In a daze, he set out for the kitchen. He was already a few steps down the hallway when Mallory called his name.

"Diaval?"

"Yeah?"

"It's a happy birthday indeed."

* * *

**A/N:** Hello again! I got so incredibly attached to _The Flaw in the Plan_ that I wrote spin-off one-shots for it- one for today, another for day 6. So yeah, if you haven't read it, I'd be delighted if you did!

I might not write anything anymore after Maleval Week, because I'm starting med school the 5th of August, and I need to do a lot of things for prep. So this is sort of my last hurrah. And anyway, my reader and review counts are dropping (they've been on a downward spiral since Hurricane) so I think that either you're getting tired of me, or this fandom is bleeding out. Anyway, I guess this is as good a time as any to clock out.

What do you think of this one-shot?

Cheers!


	4. Day 5

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 5 Prompt: Preening**

**Title: Cleansing**

Diaval will easily admit to thinking that his mistress looked a hundred times more beautiful now that she had gotten her wings back. Aside from the fact that her wings are majestic (she was right- they look like they will never falter), the return of her wings had also brought an immense change in her demeanor. Diaval clearly remembered the cries of anguish that rang out throughout the Moors and beyond, reaching his raven ears like a piercing sword. For years on end, that brokenness was all that prevailed, but now that Maleficent is complete again, Diaval sensed that life as he knew it would change- for the better.

As beautiful as her wings were, though, they have been left unkempt back at the castle. Diaval shuddered at the thought of those glorious feathers dirty and matted. While his mistress has tried to fix them, one can easily see that she's out of practice. After almost two decades of not having to care for them, Maleficent has to learn how to keep her wings clean again. And she's _trying_, really, she is, but every time Diaval saw her wings he has to fight the urge to clean them himself.

Diaval has offered to give her a hand- _repeatedly_- but she always refused. Without saying, he understood that it's because she's still wary of letting anyone touch her wings. Even Aurora, whose affectionate gestures Maleficent has grown to accept, still hasn't been granted that particular privilege. Nevertheless, Diaval continued to ask, if only to let his mistress know that even though he has ceased to work as her wings, he's still here to do and be whatever she needed.

He was right to persist in asking, because there is nothing more gratifying than the feeling of being able to touch her wings for the first time, with all the trust and faith that that entailed on his mistress' part. Together, they preened her feathers, her wings and her soul being cleansed one touch at a time.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello! I only managed to write this drabble for day 5 because I have another entry- an original song. Yes, I wrote a maleval-inspired original song. I will put the link in my profile page for that, if you're interested to have a listen. :D

Cheers!


	5. Day 6

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 6 Prompt: Playing with Children + Scars**

**Title: Lessons in Fear and Healing**

**Notes: Set in the universe of ****_The Flaw in the Plan_****. Modern AU**

"Is Diaval already here?" This was the first thing Mallory asked Leila the moment she entered the latter's home.

Leila laughed. "Well hello to you too. Honestly Mal, you get a boyfriend and suddenly it's like I'm chopped liver."

Mallory sighed, hugging her friend. "I'm sorry. I had to ask, seeing as I told Diaval to text me when he arrived and I've gotten no word back."

"Blame Aurora. Diaval didn't even get to put his bag down when Aurora dragged him to her room. She's made a mini-metropolis with the lego he bought her, see. Aurora wanted to call Diaval as soon as she was done with it, but I told her she'd have to wait until today."

Leila took Mallory's coat from her and ushered her into the hallway. "Go save your beau from my hyperactive daughter! Don't take your shoes off, though, or you might just discover how much of a bane lego really is."

Smiling, Mallory went upstairs to Aurora's room. Laughter and squeals reached her ears upon reaching the second floor landing. Making sure she didn't make any noise, she opened the ajar door wider and leaned against the doorway, observing the scene in front of her.

Diaval was currently seated on the floor and Aurora was standing on her bed, blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape. They were clutching tiny lego figures, poised in the air for a fight.

_"You are no match for me, raven!"_

_"We'll see about that, princess!"_

Mallory watched as they make sound effects and mock dialogues for their battling characters. Aurora kept bouncing on her bed, obviously thrilled with the game.

Even before, Aurora has always been too hyper a girl for both Mallory and Leila to handle. When Aurora was left mostly in her care, Mallory tried to be as indulging of the child's whims as possible. She tried to keep up, to match the child's zeal and curiosity, but there has always been hesitation on her part. She'd been afraid she was going to fail with Aurora, somehow. Seeing the kid now, Mallory knew she hadn't tried hard enough.

In just a few months, Aurora has grown quite fond of Diaval, always pestering Mallory with "where's Uncle Diaval?" Mallory was surprised when Aurora shifted from calling him 'wedding man' to 'uncle', and she supposed that that was when it started.

Ever since that day, a newfound fear has threatened to overtake her, a fear that became even more pronounced at this moment, in this room occupied by a little girl, a jovial man, and a woman who loved them both.

Love.

_She was in love with him._

* * *

"Let me get this straight- you broke up with him?"

Mallory, looking small and vulnerable on Leila's couch, simply nodded.

"I- wh- why? Just a few days ago you two seemed alright! What happened?" Leila set down two coffee cups on the table, brows furrowed in distress.

Mallory reached for her mug, fingers curled tightly around the handle. "I just couldn't do it anymore"

"_What sort of reason is that?"_

"It's just- too much. It was too much, too soon."

Sighing, Leila asked, "Is that what you told Diaval?"

Distraught, Mallory began blinking furiously, probably to fend off oncoming tears. "I- he didn't ask for an explanation. He just _left_."

"I swear I'm going to kill Stefan if I ever see him again."

Mallory looked up, thrown off by Leila's non sequitur.

"This is Stefan's fault, isn't it? The bastard ruined you enough for you to turn your back on someone who cares for you as much as Diaval does." Leila explained, seeing Mallory's befuddled expression.

"How could he possibly care for me if he could leave, just like that? No words, no protests, nothing! I told him I didn't want to be with him anymore and he just _leaves_. How is that caring?" Tears finally roll down Mallory's cheeks, and Leila had to pry the mug away from her friend's hands because she was wracked with sobs.

Trying to sooth Mallory with a hug, Leila mumbled, "You two are making this more complicated than it need be!"

"Look", Leila said when the other woman had calmed down enough, "you're in love with Diaval, aren't you?"

Wiping the last traces of tears away, Mallory nodded.

"Then why would you break up with him? You say you love him yet here you are. _How is that caring?_" The blonde echoed Mallory's words from earlier, trying to highlight the hypocrisy.

"Let me tell you something about scars", Leila began. "They're ugly, undoubtedly, and they mar you. They make you imperfect. But they also signify that whatever it is that caused them has already passed. The original wound is gone. It's healed, technically speaking. And scars, well they only affect you if you keep on looking at them. And Stefan? Stefan is nothing more than an ugly scar on your life. But he's long gone, and it's high time you stop focusing on the scar he left. It's not supposed to be your defining feature. Ignore it. Learn from it, yes, but _leave the scar alone_."

"I just don't want it to happen again."

"And it won't", Leila said adamantly. "Not with Diaval."

Skeptical yet hopeful, Mallory asked, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because he adores you like the world's seventh wonder, for crying out loud! Diaval is not Stefan, in more ways than one, but the biggest difference between them is that Diaval _adores_ you. Stefan never did. Stefan was never proud of you; he never doted on you; he never treated you like you were the only one that ever mattered. Diaval did. He still would, I think, if you just give him the chance."

"But he left." Mallory's voice wavered with doubt.

Exasperation creeping in, Leila exclaimed, "He's not perfect, Mal. You hurt him, and he probably didn't know how to handle it. And he only did what you wanted him to do in the first place. He's always respected your wishes, hasn't he?"

Seeing that Mallory has _finally_ run out of arguments, Leila concluded, "The poor man is _hopelessly _in love with you, Mal. Give him a break and put him out of his misery."

"Now?"

"The sooner, the better- for the two of you and for my sanity!"

* * *

Mallory stood for a full two minutes on Diaval's doorstep, deciding whether to knock. _What if he isn't home? What if he's busy and I'm disturbing him?_ Thoughts raced through her frantic mind.

Her decision was made, however, when Diaval opened the door before she could even knock. Diaval took a step back, and he stared at her with a mixture of surprise and yearning.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"About two minutes, I think."

Diaval ran a hand through his disheveled hair. _He looks like a mess_, Mallory thought. "Were you ever going to knock?"

"Yes, I just…" Mallory trailed off, unsure of what to say. How was she going to explain everything?

"Mallory", Diaval sighed, cutting to the chase. "If this is just more drivel about how we're better off this way, I suggest you leave. Now, if this is actually you admitting you were wrong to break up with me, by all means stay."

Suddenly Diaval found himself almost being knocked over by the force of Mallory's embrace. Steadying them, he wrapped his arms around her waist in return.

"I'm sorry", Mallory whispered repeatedly against his neck.

"Don't you ever do that again, you hear me? Because next time I'm not letting you off the hook easy." Diaval pulled away to look directly at her face, frustrated and relieved at the same time.

"Well, don't ever leave just like that again!" Mallory retorted.

Touching his forehead with hers, he whispered, "Never, I promise."

Their lips meet, slowly at first, until urgency and longing take over them. Diaval lifted Mallory, allowing her to lock her legs around him, and he carried her inside, closing the door behind them. For the first time, there is no hesitation, no fear or worry- he kissed her as if he'd never get another chance, and she kissed him as if the taste of his lips was the elixir of life, her manna for years to come.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't worry guys, I'm almost done and you'll never be bugged by my ramblings again. (this has been the collection with the most abysmal stats yet, so yeah. I'll be out of your hair, just two more chapters to go!)

By the way, the lovely bukowskiowl made a gifset for _The Flaw in the Plan_ and I am in love with it. It's linked in my profile page!

Also, if you actually listened to my maleval-inspired song and made it through the end without cringing, I love you. If you didn't listen, lucky you. lol. I love you either way.

Cheers!


	6. Day 7-1

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 7 Prompt: Blood + AU**

**Title: Resolutions**

**Notes: Detective AU. Largely inspired by Robert Galbraith's ****_The Cuckoo's Calling_**

Blood.

There's too much blood on his hands- literally.

Diaval is currently left undisturbed to his own thoughts, waiting outside surgery for news regarding his employer- detective Mallory Moor.

He had no doubt she would live. After all, she was ex-FBI. The way she had fended off her attacker was nothing short of _badass_. Still, the bastard who tried to knife her got in a stab and a few slices before Diaval managed to jump in and knock out the man with the aid of an office lamp.

It had been sheer stupidity on Mallory's part to confront the suspect alone. Possibly, she'd gotten too confident in her conclusion and too reassured in her skill set. Good thing Diaval was too curious for his own good- too curious and too paranoid. Mallory had instructed him to go home, but he encamped outside the office, hidden from view, just in case something bad happened. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for his intuition. The victorious feeling didn't last, however, because he wasn't quick enough to ensure no harm would befall his boss.

The entire thing was insane, really. Mallory's detective agency had been doing badly, and then this rich client arrived- Gerry Sheppard, his name was- demanding she reinvestigate the death of his sister- Cara Lisbon, famous international supermodel, whose death has been ruled as suicide by the police. All the while Diaval thought Sheppard merely sought justice for his sister's death, but it turns out that the bastard himself killed the woman! Sheppard tasked Mallory to reexamine the murder because he was confident his frame-up would work. If Mallory had been fooled by the false clues planted in the case, she would have indicted Sheppard's brother, thus leaving him as sole heir to their family's fortune as soon as their mother passed away.

Diaval was the sort of person who thought the best of everyone, and to see someone willingly murder his sister and set his brother up for money- for something as mundane as _money_- was like seeing the world through the clearest lenses possible.

Mallory knew all these things- expected all these things- when he was just realizing them. He marveled at how strong she really was.

* * *

Diaval still came to work for the rest of the week, even though Mallory was still at the hospital. For the first time in the month he's worked in this agency, the phone is constantly ringing, with journalists wanting the full story of how a nearly-broke detective with an insignificant business managed to one-up the police and solve the murder of a famous model, and with new clients who were attracted by Mallory Moor's well-publicized show of competency.

Mallory didn't allow Diaval to visit her at the hospital. Diaval surmised this might have something to do with the woman's absolute hatred of anyone seeing her in a weak state. For a couple of days since the exciting denouement to the murder case, he was constantly worrying about her, and also dreading the moment he'd see her in person.

* * *

Mallory was only able to get out of the hospital Thursday night, so the next time Diaval saw her was Friday morning- the morning of his last day as temporary secretary.

Vaguely, Diaval heard the door open. Turning, he saw Mallory enter, nodding to him.

"Okay Mr. Rookwood, I'll put you down for 11 o'clock on Tuesday. Yes. Yes. Okay, thank you."

Mallory proceeded to sit down in the outer office's sofa wordlessly, as Diaval was on the phone. When he put down the receiver, the first thing out of his mouth was "how are you? I've been worried sick."

With a small smile, she said, "I'm fine. I've endured worse."

"Doesn't change the fact that you should have let me stay when you confronted Sheppard. Bit stupid doing it alone, don't you think?" Diaval said, leaning against his worktable.

The detective sat back, extending her legs and crossing them at the ankles. "I didn't think he'd be a match for me. He might have pulled off a premeditated murder, but I thought he would be too cowardly to act on impulse."

He sighed, arms crossed and a disapproving scowl on his face. "You're getting overconfident, Mallory. Psychopaths are psychopaths, no matter what form, shape or size they come in."

Mallory conceded, "True."

Silence settled upon them, both realizing it's time they address the elephant in the room

"So, it's your last day today." Mallory pointed out.

"Yeah. I've arranged the files one last time, and I've got you fully booked until next week. Business is looking up." He remarked with a perfunctory smile.

"I suppose the publicity has it perks."

"For what it's worth" he drawled, "I hope your next assistant is even half as efficient as me." Diaval tried to give her a cheeky grin. It probably looked more like a grimace.

"Such vanity, Diaval." With forced congeniality, she asked, "Are you taking the HR job?"

Shrugging, he replied. "It's my best prospect."

"I heard the pay is good. You're not excited at the idea of a proper salary?"

"HR is boring. I'd really rather stay, to be honest."

"Diaval", Mallory sighed. "I can't afford you. I was canceling my contract with the temp agency when they sent you here by mistake, remember? Fact is, I can't have any more people on the payroll except myself."

In earnest, Diaval moved to sit next to Mallory. "I don't expect you to pay me as well as HR."

"I wouldn't even come close."

He ran a hand through his raven-black hair. "Do you think I don't know that? I did balance your books, you know."

"If you have any ambition, you'd take the HR job." Noticing Diaval's frown, she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a tidily-wrapped package. "Here" She tossed it to him.

Diaval opened the gift. His eyes went wide upon seeing what's inside- a silk necktie, the one she made him try on at TCP when they were questioning the staff under the pretense of nosy shoppers.

"Mallory..."

Smiling indulgently, she said, "I thought it'd be a decent thing to wear on your first day. Just a thank you for sticking around til the end of this case. You'd do great in HR."

"This is too expensive."

"It came from Sheppard's payment- the framed brother, not the murderer-, so it's alright." She smirked, propping up her face in the palm of her hand.

"Mallory…" Diaval mumbled, voice tinged with wonder, "If it was up to you, would you keep me?"

"Of course. There's no doubt that you're an asset- you're smart, efficient, and good with people. But you deserve a better paying job. You have better things you could do."

Mallory was trying to pass it off as a casual remark, but Diaval knew better. She wanted him to stay. _If she could, she'd make him stay_.

Locking gazes with her, he stated, "I wouldn't even care if you paid me half of what my new job would. I'll stay if you let me."

A befuddled expression crosses Mallory's face. "Why?"

"I like this job! It's exciting and fulfilling. Of course, I'd be acting mainly as assistant, but I helped you with this case, didn't I? Under your tutelage, I could become better at this. The pay might not be great now, but I'd be learning loads if I stayed. It's more than enough, I suppose, for now."

Taking a deep breath, he concluded with firmness, "This is what I want to do, Mallory."

Being a detective, Mallory has gained the capability of maintaining a polite, indifferent demeanor. For once, she's not using it on him- she's not shutting him out. Unable to suppress a smile, she conceded. "Okay, fine. We could figure something out in terms of salary."

Diaval grinned back.

Shaking her head, she exclaimed, "If I knew you were going to stay, I wouldn't have bought you that silly tie. It was ridiculously expensive!"

"But coupled with the green shirt, I'd look dashing with it. Figured that'd be beneficial in dealing with female clients."

She actually chuckled. "You flatter yourself too much." Smirking, she added, "Too bad your good qualities don't extend to your stealth skills. Irredeemably clumsy, aren't you?"

In faux-indignation, he retorted, "I resent that!"

Still smirking, Mallory stood up, grabbed her bag and walked to the inner office. Before entering, she turned to him and pronounced, "If we break even in a few months, I'll have you take a surveillance course. Otherwise, you'd be a liability."

Diaval stared at the inner office door long after Mallory has closed it behind her, realizing she just implied that eventually, he'd go up from being a mere secretary to investigative partner, at least to some extent. The phone rang once again, and with a smile of contentment, Diaval got back to work with more enthusiasm.

* * *

**A/N:** I wanted a murder mystery AU so bad, but if I actually wrote a crime scene it would have to be a multi-chaptered fic and I just haven't got the time, so instead you get this. Pre-maleval, really.

Cheers!


	7. Day 7-2

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 7 Prompt: Blood + AU**

**Title: The Power He Knows Not**

_"Crucio!"_

Maleficent heard the screams resonate in the empty hallway. Stefan was laughing maniacally, wand held high and aimed at the man now writhing in pain on the floor. She stood behind him, willing herself not to close her eyes. Her fists are clenched tightly, fingers digging into palms hard enough to draw blood. While she forced herself to look on, she's trying her damnedest not to meet _his_ eyes.

The screams abruptly subsided when Stefan lowered his wand. Still, tremors wracked the man's body, and Maleficent could easily see his muscles involuntarily twitching from the remnants of the spell.

Stefan walked closer to the supine body and kicked him in the side. "How the mighty have fallen." Another kick. "I wonder how the Order will take the loss of their strongest duelist." Stefan then brought down his foot on the man's right hand. Maleficent almost cried when she heard his anguished howl and the crunch of broken bones. But there is no room for weakness here. One mistake and she could lose the most important thing in her life- _Aurora_.

Stefan grinned sinisterly, relishing the desolation palpable in the atmosphere. Addressing Maleficent, he said, "This" he punctuated with jab of his wand "is the power Dumbledore claimed the Dark Lord didn't have- love. _Love_! How laughable. Crucio!"

The screams began again, and Maleficent had to bite back a sob. But she has to do this. _Aurora needed her to_.

"Doesn't it make you powerful, Maleficent, knowing that this pathetic vermin came running just because you asked him to?" More cries echo in her head, and she knew this was the sound she'll fall asleep to at night and wake up to in the morning- _his _cries of pain and suffering. She wants nothing more than to kill Stefan, to aim her wand at him and utter the curse that would end all of this, but she _can't_.

"Poor Diaval", Stefan said with mock-sympathy, "because of _love_, you let Mal lure you to your death. What, did you think Mal would turn her back on _me_ and run into your waiting arms? Crucio!" The death eater reapplied the spell. Tears flowed freely on Diaval's face, his voice now too hoarse as he let out strangled yells. Mustering enough strength, Diaval turned his gaze towards her, and she didn't avert her eyes on time. They lock gazes, and she felt a soft prodding in the barriers of her mind. _He was asking permission_. _He was trying to understand_.

She can't say anything- do anything- in front of Stefan. But she can do this for him. Gently she let down the barriers, peeling them off layer by layer with difficulty. Ever since she's been forced to join the death eaters, Occlumency has been a skill she's practiced to perfection, and she forgot what it feels like to have somebody else be able to read her so freely.

She sensed Diaval enter her mind, his concentration shaky with pain. To help him, she pushed thoughts she wanted him to see to the front of her mind- the first time they met, the first time he held her hand, the first time she kissed him, the first time he said _I love you,_ the first and only time she said it back…

Maleficent looked away, realizing that if she didn't stop, she would break down. Memories were surging to the forefront of her consciousness, battling for attention. This was the man she loved, right in front of her, being tortured an inch away from his death. And _she_ lured him here.

After a few seconds of composing herself, she locked gazes with Diaval again, this time focusing on the only thought that mattered right now- her sister, Aurora, in the clutches of the Dark Lord because of Stefan.

_He'd kill her if I didn't…_Maleficent pleaded silently. Despite the pain flooding his body, Diaval managed to nod and even give her a small smile. She wished he didn't. She wished Diaval would die hating her. She wished Diaval would put up a fight. She wished he would just kill her, instead of _this_- him, loving her until the very end.

Stefan noticed Diaval's movement, and with a derisive cackle he dropped his wand. "Found some idiotic sentiment to comfort you, have you?"

Diaval said nothing, too weak to respond. He kept his stare on Maleficent. Stefan followed the direction of his gaze and his face morphed into indescribable anger. "Filthy mudblood. You have no _right_ to even breathe the same air as us. Sectumsempra!"

Diaval groaned as wounds appeared on his body. Blood stains bloomed against his clothes, and Maleficent already had one foot forward, ready to run towards him. Stefan's eyes flashed when he saw the minuscule action.

"You dare, Mal?"

Maleficent shook her head violently, blinking back tears.

"Kill him."

Maleficent's eyes grew wide, horrified.

Stefan sauntered to her, a cocky smirk on his lips. "Kill him or I kill Aurora. Simple as that, Mal."

Maleficent swallowed. _Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry,_ she repeated to herself like a mantra. She raised her wand and pointed it at Diaval.

"Remember, darling. You have to mean it." Stefan murmured in her ear. She had to suppress a shudder of disgust at the feel of his breath on her skin.

She looked at Diaval one last time. Slowly, he mouthed three words to her. She responded with two words declared firmly, green light shooting out of her wand to his chest.

_"I love you."_

"Avada Kedavra."

* * *

Maleficent tore her gaze away from the stone walls when she heard the gate of her cell creak open. They've come to carry out her sentence. _Finally_.

The war has been won, and Stefan was wrong- they weren't in the winning side. The Potter boy somehow managed to beat the Dark Lord, but of course, no side came out unscathed. The Order has lost a lot of their valuable members. She knew, because she killed one of them.

She's been sentenced to receive the kiss. When Voldemort fell, the first thing she did was kill Stefan and as many other death eaters as she can. Still, the Wizengamot showed her no pity, because she was not under the Imperius and she murdered one of the Order's best. There was no forgiveness for what she's done, and truthfully, this was infinitely more preferable than being pardoned.

Aurors assisted her outside her cell, to the execution room. Without mercy, they shoved her in the middle of the room. She was surrounded by dementors, but by this time she has grown used to their presence. Maleficent wondered briefly if she was insane, because she remained unaffected by dementors, who could invoke extreme misery in the happiest people.

As a dementor neared her and she felt her soul being sucked away from her body, she realized that she was unaffected because she's lost her soul long ago- she's lost her soul the day she saw the light leave Diaval's eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** This was my original idea for the Day 7 prompt, and because of all the talks today regarding a Harry Potter AU, I was compelled to write this. Sorry if it's too sad, and sorry if it's chockful of mistakes because I wrote this _today_.

I have one last one-shot for today's prompt.

Cheers!


	8. Day 7-3

**Maleval Week 2014**

* * *

**Day 7 Prompt: AU**

**Title: Crescendo**

**Notes: Musicians AU**

**Summary: Theirs was a story of moments, of days and months and years and miles, of a love that became stronger and louder over time.**

When Diaval Blanchard was 15, he was pushed into attending a distinctive high school. Castelmont, it was called, and it specialized in honing students in music and theater arts. It was where a lot of rich people sent their kids when they showed the slightest hint of creative talent, but for the poor sort, you had to get in based on sheer ability. He's been playing the cello for as long as he can remember, and his parents urged him to try for Castelmont. Diaval managed to impress the admissions panel enough to snag a scholarship, and there was no forcing his parents to allow him deference, so he sucked it up and started at the elite high school.

It was as terrible as he thought it would be, filled with the snobby, the stuck up and the arrogant. The curriculum in itself was designed to push students into excellence (but of course, unless you're the kid of someone extremely loaded, then you can get by with the barest improvements) so he didn't have complaints about that. Also, the orchestra was incredible and it's the only thing he's looked forward to in this place. But everything else was awful.

He auditioned for the orchestra, and to his surprise, the conductor decided to put him in Second Chair cello based on his skill and promise. However, when you're in as cutthroat a school as Castelmont, the students will ensure you don't rise without adversity. Diaval spent the rest of his time alone, because no one wanted to be friends with him. They called him names behind his back, and spread rumors as to how he easily got a high position in the orchestra. For his first few months he was completely miserable, but he had no one else to turn to. His parents would be devastated to hear how poorly he's coping, so he never told them what he's going through. The teachers never meddled in the students' personal affairs, and his peers simply don't care. He almost gave up, wanting to leave the orchestra desperately, when she found him.

Mallory Moor was two years his senior. Not only was she top of the class, she was also concertmaster of the orchestra, being the principal violinist. She was wildly popular in school in the sense that she was _infamous_, mostly for her insane talent, but he gathered she wasn't well-liked (still because of her talent, as she was leaps and bounds ahead of her peers, but also because of her no-nonsense attitude). Nevertheless, she had always been polite to him, and not once has she been condescending or patronizing, as some tended to treat the "freshies".

He was on the verge of quitting the orchestra when Mallory found him practicing after class, alone, one fateful day. Diaval was playing Bach's Suite No. 6 in D major when she chanced on him, and he didn't notice her listening until he got into the middle of the movement. However, she made him continue, so he played the entire thing with her as the sole audience. Afterwards, the only thing she said to him was, "If you want respect, you have to earn it."

He pondered on that piece of advice for days, wondering why it was so important for her to relay it to him. Diaval resolutely decided to stay in the orchestra, if only to figure out the enigma that was Mallory Moor's advice, and he spent the rest of freshman year continuing to improve his craft until gradually, the rumors and nasty gossip about him stopped, replaced with a grudging acceptance. The people in the cello section were the first to admit he was good enough to be Second Chair, and eventually everyone in the orchestra made peace with the decision. Concerts and performances rolled in, and every single time the conductor acknowledges his performance backstage, Mallory glanced at him with something akin to pride.

It was only after freshman year that he found out Mallory was once just like him, scorned for her talent, until she shoved everyone's consternation back in their faces and forced them to see her as she is- someone out of their league.

* * *

Sophomore year was infinitely better than first year. Diaval finally has people he can hang out with after school, and his classmates have become much warmer to him due to his growing reputation. Still, he hasn't neglected his rehearsals, and more often than not he stayed after class and orchestra practice to play alone. He kept on doing this until one day, Mallory Moor simply dropped in and asked him if he was willing to play Ravel's Sonata for Violin and Cello. He acquiesced, and it was quite possibly one of the most magical moments in his life, two sounds merging into one to make musical symbols on paper come to life.

They played together every afternoon from that point on.

* * *

They never talk during the times they play together, except to exchange ideas on what piece they should do next. Diaval has contemplated on more than one occasion to at least say "thank you", and the urge hit him harder as her graduation approached. However, he stayed silent, afraid that he might send her away if he tried to initiate a conversation, if he tried to get something more than what they have now.

The last time they played together was the day before her graduation, and Diaval wanted nothing more than to prolong that moment, that instant when she was all that he had and he was all that existed in her world, but their time came to a halt like all the other times before.

They chose Beethoven for their last time, finally agreeing on something instead of forcing one's preference on the other. Diaval felt like this last time went by faster than all those previous sessions, and he hated every second of it. After the last notes resonate within the room they were in, and after they've put down their bows, all he could do was stare at her. Diaval wanted to talk to her, to say goodbye, to say _I hope you don't forget about me_, but all he did was stare. It was Mallory who had the courage to break the year-long trance they were in.

"So… I guess this is goodbye." Mallory said, putting her violin back in its case.

Startled, Diaval could only nod in reply.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I enjoyed playing with you."

Diaval shook his head, flustered. "The pleasure is all mine. You, uh, play well." He cringes at the inanity of his words. She chuckled, thankfully finding him amusing instead of stupid.

"I should hope so." She extended a hand to him. "Good luck, Diaval."

He clasped her hand. "You too. And congrats. On graduating, I mean."

Her close-lipped smile grew wider. "Thanks."

Diaval debated whether to stop her or let her go, and it was only when she made it to the door that he decided he's got nothing to lose, anyway, since this was probably the last time he will see her.

"Mallory, wait."

She turned around, hand on the door handle.

He jogged over to where she is, bag slung on his shoulder. "I uh, I have something for you." He mumbled, rifling through his backpack and pulling out an envelope. Nervously, he handed it to her.

Curious, she moved to open it, but he stopped her.

"Open it later when I'm not around. It's just a graduation present, nothing grand about it. Just my way of saying thank you." He bounced on the balls of his feet, jumpy from anxiety and embarrassment. He watched as Mallory slipped the envelope inside her bag.

An unreadable expression crossed her face, but before Diaval could interpret it, the expression was gone, replaced with a softer version of her polite demeanor. "Thank you, Diaval. I hope for all the best for you." Mallory whispered, leaving this room they've shared for a year behind, one last time.

* * *

The next time Diaval saw her was half a year after her graduation. He was performing in the school's Winter Ball not only as part of an orchestra, but as a soloist for the first time. That honor was granted to the person who, according to the conductor, showed the most improvement and skill. For his junior year, he finally managed to get the coveted First Chair spot in the cello section, and so he was chosen for this year's Winter Ball solo performance.

A lot of alumni go back to watch the concert, but it was almost a rule that graduates wait at least 5 years before going back, just to avoid being labeled as homesick wash-ups. That is why he almost fumbled when he noticed Mallory in the very back of the audience, intent eyes watching him. Fortunately, he gathered his wits enough to not commit a mistake, and he delivered his Winter solo piece flawlessly, eliciting a standing ovation from the audience. Mallory stood clapping along with everybody else, and he realized that her approval meant more to him that everybody else's.

* * *

Diaval graduated high school, unfortunately only as class salutatorian, but he still got into the tertiary school of his dreams- Juilliard. This was his sole motivation for the longest time, the biggest reason why he agreed to endure Castelmont in the first place.

The intense competition of Castelmont is multiplied a hundred times in Juilliard, but the environment was also a hundred times better, and Diaval is happier. He's making a lot of friends and he's doing great so far. Still, the first thing he did at Juilliard was to seek out Mallory, now a third-year violin major. Despite the years and the changes, it was so easy to fall into the same routine, of suites and sonatas and minuets performed with each other and for each other. He told himself that he developed a firmer friendship with Mallory because this is his way of remembering where he came from, a way of acknowledging his roots, but that is only part of the reason. It's true that being around her prevented him from being too carried away by this new life, but he stuck with her mostly because he wanted to, simple as that.

* * *

Diaval has always thought that doing something repetitively makes it easier, but apparently that rule doesn't apply with goodbyes. The day of Mallory's graduation arrived like a thief in the night, and he found himself, for the second time, bracing himself for her departure. As a nod to their first parting, they decide to play Beethoven again. A sense of déjà vu washes over him as they wait for the final notes to die down.

Just like that time years ago, she was putting her violin back in its case when she broke the silence between them. "I guess this is goodbye… yet again."

Gripping the neck of his cello tightly, he replied, "Yeah, I suppose so."

Mallory caught the look in his face and chuckled lightly. "You look so miserable."

Diaval stood up, returning the chair he used to its proper place, scowling. "I'm glad you find my misery funny."

Mallory slowly walked up to him, and with a hand on his shoulder, peered at him. "If you miss me too much, you can always text me, you know. We can even skype if you like."

"You won't reject my calls?" _Such neediness, Diaval_, he scolded himself.

Arms crossed, she stared at him with a raised brow. "Have I ever rejected any of your calls before?"

Diaval threw her a sheepish smile, but a pensive expression forced its way through. "It's not the same as having you here", he mumbled.

With a sad smile, Mallory said, "True. I'm going to miss playing with you the most. After all, you're the best cellist I've ever met." There was no compliment in her statement, only fact. "What about you?"

Deciding to give her honesty as his parting gift, he said, "Everything. _You_. I'm going to miss you the most."

Mallory bit her lower lip, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. Still, her face softened at his words, and she reached out to gently touch his cheek.

"I'm going to miss you too."

He covered her hand with his own, holding it to his cheek a little longer than what was appropriate.

When he finally dropped her hand, the softness of her features was replaced with confidence. "If you miss me, you know where to find me."

"Where?"

Mallory grabs her violin case, slings her bag on her shoulder, and turned to him when she was at the door. Cockily, she declared, "At the top."

His own hearty laughter was the last thing that echoed through the room that night.

* * *

For his last two years of college, the only contact Diaval has with Mallory was of the electronic kind- texts, calls, skype chats, e-mails. For two years, he never saw her in person, because she was busy traveling with the New York Philharmonic. Still they kept in contact, and he refused to let their communication peter out, always reaching out whenever they were on the verge of losing themselves to their work.

For two years, Diaval had to content himself with her virtual presence, even if it was far from being enough. Unlike his first Winter Ball solo, Mallory couldn't come see him perform for his final Juilliard recital. He scanned the crowd fastidiously, but there was no sign of her, and he had to admit it left him immensely disappointed. She offered her sincerest apologies the next time they talked, but the simple truth was that he missed her, and maybe it was a big mistake to grow so attached to her, but he already had and there was no way out of it.

* * *

A slight reprieve from the separation was afforded to him by his graduation. Mallory promised this was something she was never going to miss, but he knew that sometimes, something comes up in the job and you can't forego it, so he didn't have high hopes. But when he saw Mallory in the crowd whilst he was delivering the commencement address, the longing hit him particularly hard and he almost jumps down to get to her. Still, he forced himself to be patient a little while longer.

However, after the ceremonies, there was no stopping him from running to her and scooping her up in his arms. He keeps her in his embrace for a long while, and even when he lets go he doesn't stray too far. She was like rain and he was like dry soil, and he's going to receive what he can before the water goes away again.

* * *

Eventually, though, they had to go back to their own lives- him, pursuing a masters degree while being a junior instructor; her, traveling with one of the most prestigious and oldest orchestras in the world.

They still keep in contact, and it is then that Diaval realized that Mallory has easily become the most important person in his life, and he maintained the hope that he was indispensable to her as well.

His hopes were proven true in the most horrible way possible- through a phone call telling him Mallory was desperately asking for him, from a hospital bed, injured and broken.

* * *

It was a car accident, Mallory narrated to him, a head-on collision caused by someone driving under the influence. Fortunately, she was brought to the hospital on time. The other driver wasn't as lucky (although, Diaval argued, the bastard deserved to die anyway). Mallory was alive, but it didn't mean that she was okay. The accident left her motor functions impaired- more specifically, her fine motor skills. To a musician, that meant the end- the end of your career, the end of life as you know it.

* * *

Diaval realized that he didn't want to be with her in the flesh, if it meant being with her like she is now- lost and despairing. He would have given anything and everything for her to be happy again. But music was her world, and without it, she didn't know what to do. It was like losing her identity.

She was undergoing physical therapy, but for the longest time it didn't seem to be working. After every session, she picks up her violin and tries to play again, and every time she fumbles or her fingers refuse to move the way they used to, Diaval witnessed the light leave her eyes.

Still, Diaval stayed. He filed a leave of absence to Juilliard and took a temporary job teaching music to locals, mostly kids. He was there for all her physical therapy sessions. He was there to hold her for all the times she cried, all the times she hated herself and hated the world for taking away the thing that mattered to her the most. He was there the rare times she smiled, because she was making progress and there was hope for healing, both of her body and her soul.

He knew Mallory was thankful, despite not saying anything. Still, her looks of gratefulness were interspersed between looks of confusion, and one day she found herself asking, "Why are you doing this?"

He feigned ignorance, but she pressed on. "You should be in Juilliard. You have a life there. Why are you still here?"

Shrugging, he simply said, "Because."

"Because what?"

He didn't respond, so she reiterated "Why, Diaval?"

"Because you're family, okay? You're family, and I love you, and- and you were the first person who believed in me, so I figured… this is just me believing in you."

For the first time, he is the one locked in her embrace, instead of the other way around. Then again, even from the beginning, she's always been the one who had an inexplicable hold on him. This was simply her finally realizing it.

* * *

If there was ever a person who could defeat anything life throws her way, it was Mallory. After almost two years of rehabilitation and training, she was back and ready to return to being one of the world's most promising violinists of their age. Truth be told, Diaval would have been perfectly content with a low-key life, teaching kids and starting a family back in his hometown. However, Mallory Moor was not someone you could keep in anonymity. She was born to shine, born to receive the world's accolades and praises. Even her comeback was a big deal- Juilliard was hosting a concert featuring Mallory as the special guest.

"I'm supposed to perform three solos that night." Mallory told him, referring to the Julliard concert.

"However, I asked if I could perform a duet with someone in place of one solo. They agreed." Meaningfully, she looked at him, and Diaval immediately understood what she's trying to say.

"I… you want to perform with me?"

Mallory nodded. "I already have a piece in mind." She handed him sheet music- old, creased, and brown at the edges. In complete disbelief, Diaval scanned the pages, recognizing his own penmanship.

It was the aubade he wrote, his first completed composition, a violin-cello duet that was Mallory's high school graduation gift.

Diaval has never asked her about it, and she's never mentioned it before, so he assumed that it had been forgotten.

Apparently it was the farthest thing from forgotten. She's kept it all these years, waiting for the perfect moment to bring it to life through their combined talent and passion.

With an affectionate smile and a melodious voice, Mallory stated, "It's time we told the world about us, don't you think?"

Thinking of all those years- of music trapped in closed rooms, of texts and calls and e-mails, of tears and weaknesses and vulnerabilities, of laughter and hope and longings fulfilled shared only between the two of them- Diaval pulled Mallory closer, finally melding his lips with hers, letting themselves be intimately connected the way their music already had.

* * *

Despite his misgivings, Diaval didn't contradict Mallory's decision to travel once more with the New York Philharmonic. She was away on tours for months on end, while Diaval settled for a more sedentary career as assistant professor at Juilliard. For a couple more years, they went back to seeing each other only during the months Mallory was allowed to come back and communicating mainly via other means.

All the pain and yearning and misery were erased, however, when out of the blue Mallory just knocks on his office door and with just two words, promised him she'd stay, this time for good.

"I'm home", she said.

Staring into her eyes, Diaval knew that he was, too.

* * *

**A/N:** And it's done! That's it for Maleval week, people. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I'm going to miss writing so much. Here's to hoping I can get back at this once in a while.

Wish me luck in med school!

Your kind words meant more than you'll ever know.

Thank you awesome people! Bye, for now.

Cheers!


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